Eneathedevil

The stones of the station are rust black. I stand under a shelter where a flag flutters gently. In a field, a woman bends over two newly born lambs. The naked wind slithers over the fire, the fierce fire of the meadows. An isolated bird gathers above an abandoned wagon a vast October sky and tears away its white and frozen flank; around, after the night, there are the dirty trunks of must and a thousand cars in line, down there, in a hidden depot. I open the newspaper and try to read to hide myself a little, while she talks to a man and I recognize her voice, a bit hoarse. I close the newspaper, I look at her. She is turned away, she doesn't see me. Her hair is blond, it is dyed, so she does not yield to life. You can look at me, eye of the mind, eye of memory! A woman is old when she no longer has youth! Listen to the tide of the heart, for we are close; I found her by chance, but she is no longer a girl. I would like to call her, tell her: "foxes with fiery tails do not speak but scream madly among the trees for the pain; let’s sit on the ground, or up there on whitewashed benches, let’s sit on a bed of dry leaves and listen to our hearts." We have forgotten and lost ourselves; I find you now suddenly inside a small station on a gray October day: you don’t even look at me, I alone have hell in my heart because life is a drop that wears away the stone of the face. Every morning, every evening I leave, and I return, alone; like the boy I was, I can no longer burn in a flight. The train arrives, it stops; my shadow rises, part disappears. I see you young again, like in a dream fading away.

1983 was quite different from Viaggi Organizzati, definitely superior. Well played by Stadio, dark and pessimistic, with decent arrangements. I fondly remember "Solo," "Noi come voi," and the frantic riff of "Pecorella." Viaggi Organizzati, with the transition from Stadio to Malavasi, is, from a sound perspective, rather flat. Just think of the lead track, "Viaggi Organizzati," which, although born from good ideas, drags slowly like a little snail. Good Washington there. This might be better than Viaggi Organizzati, perhaps scraping by with a passing grade for a couple of tracks like Tania Delcirco, Luk, and especially Ribot, a small gem from Dalla that deserves to be known.

Yes, maybe that's not the point, it's just to break it down a bit. They've built it around him! Uhm, primitivist approach? Fair enough. It's a bit like looking into the murky waters for me. But, well, you know, it's not my field.

Well, we understand each other, or we end up talking about the same old issue. The dirty side of rock, and those little voices: I can't stand them. I don't even like that of the showman from Pere Ubu, I can't remember his name... I associate it with Van Vliet's. But can you explain to me where is the eclecticism that Scaruffo talks about? To me, they seem like two monotone cases: when I hear a track, I immediately recognize that voice, eclecticism my foot. Then someone might talk about eclecticism considering that Beefheart has tried his hand at quite a few genres... but damn it, no matter how he shapes that voice, it always has that irritating tone.

I completely agree with Psycho. Johansson is stunning, especially from an aesthetic point of view: but where have we ended up? They say she has an icy charm: she is indeed icy, but I don't see any charm. I have never appreciated her; I consider her someone who may appeal to some, but not one of absolute beauty. Even less comparable to Kidman. Gwen is cute, with a penchant for "characterism" built around her by an entourage that has seen more than she can demonstrate (just look at Scorsese...!): her place is there, among No Doubt and those catchy pop tunes.

Note: I would gladly listen to Irrlicht another 2000 times, not to mention X or Audentity. This gets on my nerves. Besides the dissonance of the sound magma, I add two other aspects that are intolerable for me: the unbearable fragmentation into dozens and dozens of ephemeral pieces and CB's voice. Some might see some sort of eclecticism... I only hear an annoying croaking.

Well, what can we do? I exercise the democratic right that every user on this site enjoys, the right to vote according to their own brain. It’s a 3 for encouragement.

Hey, I didn’t see you there. Listen, you have a valid point, but, if I may say so, it’s open to revision. The term sigizia has undergone the same process towards sizigia as, for example, the term "interpetre" has towards interprete, or "scorazzare" has towards "scorrazzare": acceptance of the term due to a common pronunciation error. In the dictionary, there’s also interpetre, used by those who have never managed to say it differently, just like "scorazzare" seems to be used by at least 90% of those entitled, unaware that it is an intensive form of scorrere. Now, these terms are indeed becoming common use, but they betray their etymological origins, the only "correct" ones that exist. Interprete derives from inter+pretium, just as sizigia is nothing more than syn+zèugnymi (to join with, Greek), therefore "sizigia" makes sense because it preserves the root, while "sigizia," due to a reading error, does not. So let’s say it’s a permitted version, albeit an ignorant one, of the correct term which is sizigia. "Correct version" seems a bit much to me.

Damn, you're not entirely wrong! But I was thinking: your observation leads me to a necessary reflection; people struggle to read "sizigia" correctly, often rendering the term improperly as "sigizia." It's a matter of the brain's impulse orders; the g reaches the z first for those who don't read twice. So, in your reading and your judgment, you were hasty and mischievous. Reformulate your thought, and as a wise person, you will positively judge the beauty of these dewy words. Yours in faith.

I already replied, imma: I’m diverted. HELP.